


Exercising Restraint

by PortraitOfTheAuthorAsAYoungTRex



Category: Motorcity
Genre: Anal Sex, Angst, Bittersweet Ending, Bondage, Butt Plugs, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Kane using Mike's praise kink against him, M/M, Mike would have it easier if Kane didn't know him so well, Mind Games, Non-Consensual Voyeurism, Overstimulation, Praise Kink, Sex Toys, Sexual Torture, Sounding, Vibrators, for no-shame november, hints of poly Burners, it's very frustrating for Kane, make Mike Chilton cry, non-consensual sex tapes, you can't break Mike; he just resets himself
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-21
Updated: 2016-11-21
Packaged: 2018-08-31 01:35:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,372
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8558098
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PortraitOfTheAuthorAsAYoungTRex/pseuds/PortraitOfTheAuthorAsAYoungTRex
Summary: During the three days Mike was locked in a Kane Co cell, he was at Kane's mercy. To no one's surprise, Kane wasn't very good at mercy. He was, however, quite good at taunting, emotional manipulation, and making Mike come whether he wanted to or not.





	

Mike wasn't sleeping exactly when Kane stepped into his cell, but he wasn't awake either. Red had left… a while ago, hard to know how long, and even the pain in Mike's ribs and the numb burning from shoulders to fingers as he slumped in the shackles wasn't enough to keep him all here without a present danger.

When the door swished open, he didn't snap to alertness so much as wallow up out of some drifting twilight space. Then he saw Kane and adrenaline fixed that, yanking him fully awake, straightening his spine and tightening his jaw.

It was the first time Kane had come in without Red already here or a step behind him. Mike wished he could imagine that meant it was a reprieve, but he knew it was anything but.

The door slid closed. Kane didn't say anything, which was weird. He normally took every opportunity to gloat.

He was carrying a small white case, which he hefted thoughtfully as he walked up to Mike. Smiling, he looked Mike over, eyes lingering on his battered wrists, bruised face, split lip, and still said nothing. It was beginning to creep Mike out, which was probably the point, but knowing that didn't actually help.

“Leaving Red out?” Mike tried to say, and had to cough before the words would come out. His voice rasped. “He'll be so disappointed.”

Kane made no response, didn't even acknowledge Mike had spoken. Flipping open the case he held, he set it on the floor beside him. Mike glanced down, but before he could quite make out what the various shapes in the case were, Kane stepped forward into his space and put a hand on Mike's side, warm through the material of his t-shirt.

Mike tensed, waiting for him to press against the bruises, the cracked ribs, but instead his hand slid up Mike's chest until it rubbed over one nipple. Mike jerked away, jarring his shoulders and wrists painfully, and Kane’s smile broadened.

He tilted his head a little, grabbed the hem of Mike’s shirt and pulled it up to his shoulders, lifted it over his head, leaving it bunched behind his neck. Unable to effectively resist, Mike glared. Kane raised his eyebrows.

“Really, Chilton, I assumed you'd prefer this to having me cut it off you and being half naked the rest of your stay.”

Mike's lip curled. “I'd _prefer_ you to stop being an evil jerk, too, but that's obviously n- _ahh!_ Get off me!”

Kane shook his head reprovingly, thumbing Mike's nipples as he tried again to pull away. “You were such an exemplary cadet. Bright, obedient and _honest._ You're still not a good liar, but that shitheap of a city has had an influence on you. You won't admit what you want fearlessly, upfront. You try to hide it now. Cowardly, don't you think?”

“What are you-- _nh_ \--stop it!”

“What am I talking about? You want what you lost, _Commander_. Not just the power and prestige of doing your utmost for the people of Deluxe, but the other benefits as well. My respect and trust, for instance. You shattered those when you betrayed me--and you want them back.”

It shouldn't have stung, but it did. Mike shook his head hard, closed his eyes for a second because it _wasn't true_ , as things were now he didn't want any of that. All he wanted, with a quiet ache somewhere deep and hidden, was for Kane to be the man Mike used to think he was, brilliant and foresightful and caring, a great leader. _That_ was the man whose respect he'd worked for, whose trust he'd valued. He shoved the pointless longing back in its box and narrowed his eyes at Kane. “No. I don't. And that doesn't explain wh-- _ah_ \--why you're touching me.”

“I’ve decided to be merciful,” Kane said. “You don't deserve it, but I can make an investment. I've already put so much into you, after all, what's a little more.” He pinched gently, tugged, and Mike choked off a gasp.

(He wanted it not to feel good, but after a day--two days? He had no way to track time--of beatings from Red, the contrast between the constant pain and _this_ was all the more noticeable. His pants were already tighter, and the twist in his gut was as much from heat as from sick rage.)

“So,” Kane said, “a reward you don't deserve, to remind you of the privileges you gave up.” He raised an eyebrow. “Don't try to pretend you're not interested.” Reaching down, he cupped a hand over Mike's crotch and squeezed.

Mike jolted and it took more than it should not to rock forward into it. His lips pulled back in a snarl and his arms jerked agonizingly in the shackles, instinctively trying to reach Kane, punch him, _stop him_. “Get away from me.”

“I'm disappointed, Cadet. How long are you going to keep up this flimsy pretense when the truth is so obvious?” Kane began undoing Mike's belt and Mike lost his head a little, hung by his wrists a second to hook Kane’s knee with one foot and try to kick him over with the other. Kane shifted his weight fast and smooth to keep his balance and caught Mike's leg almost casually. “I taught you to be a better strategist than this,” he sighed. “Did you really expect that to work?” He fixed Mike with a puzzled half-smile under eyes like icy stone. “Did it occur to you that I could break your wrists and leave you chained by them?"

A cold shudder went through Mike at the thought. He didn't want that to stop him, but he was exhausted, everything hurt, his shoulders and arms felt like they'd been set on fire and his wrists felt worse. He remembered that thing Jacob said about knowing when to fight and when to run, thought there must be something about acting versus biding your time, too. (Wasn't like he could make much headway fighting Kane while he could barely keep his feet, anyway.) Breathing hard, he stopped struggling for the moment and just watched Kane, still tense but--waiting.

“Better,” Kane said, approving, and Mike gritted his teeth not to kick again when Kane let go of his leg. (There was a time everything he did was to win this man's praise. Now it felt like a blow… except to that buried part of him that still perked up, shamefully grateful for that one pleased word. He'd spent years training to be good enough, and only one year knowing what Kane was really like; it wasn't a surprise part of him was confused, but he hated it. It made everything worse that as much as he hated Kane now, as evil as he knew the man was, that one small part still reacted like nothing had changed between them.)

Kane finished undoing Mike's belt, pulled it out of the belt loops and tossed it aside. Then he quickly opened Mike's pants and shoved them down before Mike could change his mind about struggling, and then it was too late (maybe it was too late the moment Kane walked in). He tried anyway, hampered and weighed down by the thick cloth around his knees as Kane snorted and peeled down his briefs, unperturbed, and then his hand was on Mike, stroking idly, and it felt _good_ and Mike wanted to die.

“Let go of me!” he snarled, and his voice was rough enough maybe it would hide the tremble under the words.

“Does it help your pride to keep protesting?” Kane said, frowning dubiously. “Because it's worthless when I know what you really mean.”

Mike clenched his teeth and tried not to let the soft gasping noises slip out. “I mean exactly what I'm saying.”

Kane shook his head. “You know, I think you really believe that, which means you've learned to lie to yourself. Not something to be proud of.”

Useless to argue, don't give him the pleasure-- “I'm not lying!”

“Hmm.” Kane let go for a second and Mike couldn't control the way he gasped for breath, relief going through him like an electric shock, leaving him weak. Kane bent to the case by his feet and straightened holding a small bottle and--oh _god no._ Mike wasn't exactly versed in sex toys, but the slender cylinder in his other hand couldn't be anything else, especially not with the half-lidded look Kane gave him, not quite smirking. “You _are_ lying, Cadet. There's another privilege you've been missing, whether you admit it to yourself or not.” He stroked a knuckle over Mike, making him jerk and snarl. “Remember? ‘Please, sir, please take me. Please f-fuck me.’”

Teeth bared, Mike was shaking his head over and over again, rage and shame and pointless anger at himself all tangled hot in his belly. (He'd been so honored by the attention, stupid and starry-eyed and taken in--he didn't want to think about it.)

“You gave yourself to me,” Kane went on mercilessly, “and you want that again. You want to be taken and owned and seen for who you are and praised for it.”

God oh god oh god, no. ( _Yes. No, not by you, not anymore._ ) Face hot, Mike kept shaking his head even as it dropped to his bare chest, wanting badly to be somewhere else, somewhere that deep purr of a voice wasn't taking pieces of truth and twisting them into something that felt wrong but still sounded so near to true.

“It's all right, Cadet,” Kane said in a soothing tone. “I know what you've been trying to hide from yourself. I'm going to give you what you want. We'll see if you can muster the appropriate gratitude by the end.”

Mike's head snapped up at that. “I don't want _anything_ you can give me,” he said low and hard.

“You should be grateful I'm not making you beg me for it,” Kane said, smoothing liquid from the bottle over the toy. He glanced up, eyes cold on Mike's. “I could. It’s a task I would enjoy. But I've decided to be kind, even in the face of your ingratitude.”

Mike huffed in disbelief. “Kind. Right, that explains why you've had Red in here trying to perfect that weak right of h- _hnnh_ \--!”

Kane stroked him again, slick now and horribly good, then stepped in close to Mike's side, toy going out of sight as that hand moved behind Mike. He tensed up at the threat of it, but some part of him still didn't believe it, didn't believe this could happen, that even Kane would do this. Then it pressed up against him, smooth and far too intimate and he went rigid, breath stopping.

“I wonder, exactly how _active_ have you been since your desertion?” Kane murmured. “Have you bent over for any of those sewer rats? One of your Burner trash, perhaps?”

Mike clenched his jaw and stayed silent, not trusting himself to speak even to say _none of your business_. The thought briefly went through his mind that Kane probably wouldn't believe the truth even if he found out, since Deluxe had no real alternatives to the basic family unit and a five-way relationship would be so outlandish as to be unimaginable.

“I suppose we'll know you've been debauching yourself if it goes in easily,” Kane said. “You were tight, as I recall, and not very experienced. We'll see if that's changed.”

Mike’s face heated and he hated it, hated Kane for making it sound like what Mike did with his friends was something shameful.

Kane pushed, and the toy slid in. Mike bit down hard on his lip at the sweet burn and stretch of it, jerked aching wrists against his shackles just to distract his stupid body from pressing back into it _yes, please, more_ no!

“Hmm,” Kane said, sounding dubious. “Looks like you've been _busy_.” He pushed it in farther, deeper, and Mike's whole body jolted as it hit that place _oh god, yes/NO!_ “Who is it? One of your disreputable companions? Or are you trading yourself for favors down there?”

Mike snarled wordlessly. The anger and sick disgust twisting in his stomach had despair seeping in underneath now, and none of it mixed well with the surging arousal.

“No response?” The toy shifted out just a little, rocked back in and rubbed over that spot again. Mike drew a harsh breath and tried to cut off his voice to not moan, though his body twitched, hips jerking as Kane kept up that slight rocking motion. “Perhaps you do have a sense of shame,” Kane said. “Of course, you _are_ a healthy young man, Cadet; I know you have needs. Just remember, they can be met without putting yourself in the hands of gutter trash.”

The toy pressed in again as Mike set his teeth, shaken by the jolts of pleasure more than he'd been by any of Red’s beatings. He tried to focus on his anger instead. _Gutter trash_. How _dare_ he call them that. At least Kane didn't know for sure who Mike's lovers were, so he couldn't insult the Burners directly. Indirectly was bad enough.

Kane did something and the toy shifted a little and--what was it--oh _god!_ His hips twisted, thrusting against the air before he got control and shuddered still again. He didn't understand why it was suddenly so different and so much better until the low buzzing noise registered. Mike wasn't an innocent; he knew what a vibrator was even if he'd never used one before, hadn't known how it felt.

It felt _good_. Like someone rubbing light and quick over his prostate, except it _kept going_. Mike went rigid, jaw clenched against the pleasure that just kept coming. 

“The look on your face,” Kane said, chuckling. “Haven't tried one of these before, hmm? They're very efficient; you'll come in a minute.”

Mike instinctively rejected that, then realized with mounting horror that it might be true. Waves of heat and pleasure kept surging through him, rising higher each time, his muscles locked and trembling with the intensity. He could keep his hips from thrusting, barely, but it didn't matter how little he moved when the toy was inside him. It droned on as his limbs jerked and twitched, as sweat broke out on his chest and the backs of his knees, as he gasped for breath and desperately tried to stop his body from reacting.

It wasn't working, and he was getting close.

He knew it was a bad idea, but he couldn't help trying. “Stop,” he said, voice shaking. “Take it out.”

“Oh no, no self-denial here,” Kane said, and paused. “Unless you wanted to ask for something different. Me, for example.” The buzz and the constant stimulation stopped abruptly, and Mike sagged in relief even as his body ached for more. “Ask me to fuck you and I'll put the vibrator away.”

Mike took a breath to answer and jolted as the buzz started up again. “I said _stop!_ ”

“Only if you ask. I know you want it,” Kane said, “but you're stubborn, aren't you, Cadet? You weren't about to admit it yet, were you. You forget that I _know_ you.”

Mike made an angry noise, body twisting as he tried to writhe away. His eyes went wide and his breath stopped when the buzz changed pitch to a high whine, the vibrations inside him suddenly so fast and relentless that it _hurt_.

“Just remember,” Kane said mildly, “I can give you what you need without being _nice_.”

Mike wanted to answer that, but if he opened his mouth he was afraid what noises might come out. He was on the brink of coming, but stuck hanging there on the edge. His whole body was shaking, his knees barely holding him. The toy felt white-hot where it pressed against his prostate, too much, painful and maddening. “S-stop,” he gasped.

“Ask me to fuck you.”

“ _Nno._ ”

Kane sighed, shaking his head. “So stubborn. That's not going to do you any favors.”

The toy shifted slightly in Mike as Kane’s hand did something and the vibrations dropped back to the original level. Mike barely had time to register the relief before he was coming, abrupt and helpless like being flung off a building.

When he stopped shaking and came back to himself, shame rolled through him dark and constricting. With everything he knew about Kane and everything Mike had done to fight against him, that shouldn't have been possible, for sure shouldn't have been that easy. Mike should have been able to stop him somehow. Shouldn't have let him do that. (Hadn't _let_ him, had tried to stop him--it didn't feel like enough.)

The toy was still on, sending aftershocks through him in quick succession and rapidly becoming uncomfortable. Mike shuddered and kept his mouth shut. He wasn't going to ask for anything.

“There. A nice reward, unearned and undeserved as it was,” Kane said. The buzzing stopped. Mike breathed carefully, waiting for it to start again, higher, but instead the toy pulled out of him entirely. He couldn't help the instinctive gasp of relief. “I know you won't be grateful yet, so I won't wait for a thank you,” Kane added, stepping around him to drop the toy back in its case.

Mike wanted to say something about how long Kane could wait before Mike would ever thank him for anything, but he wasn't sure his voice would be steady yet, so he kept it behind his teeth.

When Kane straightened up from the case, Mike wasn't sure what he was holding, a bulbous thing that was flat and broad at one end and tapered at the other with a narrower bit between.

“You'll like this, too,” Kane said, slicking the thing up. “It'll push you a little, and I know how much you always enjoy that.”

...It wasn't going to stop. Kane was gonna keep going with more of this. Stomach twisting, Mike closed his eyes for a second as Kane moved beside him again, but not seeing just made him hyperaware of his other senses. Cool air brushing against too much skin (bare from neck to knees, exposed and vulnerable and he couldn't even move to protect himself); the sound of Kane’s shoes against the floor; the smell of sweat and blood and sex. Swallowing, Mike opened his eyes and fixed them straight ahead. Maybe if he could think about something else, he could ignore whatever was about to happen.

Okay. Think about Mutt. She was running nice and smooth since the last round of upgrades, the weird whine her engine picked up when it got over 250 seemed to have been fixed, but Mike had been wondering about the way her frame shook when her guns fired more than a few rounds. It seemed like some more reinforcement might be--

Kane’s hand was hot on Mike's hip as something cool and slick nudged up against him and pressed in. It wasn't thick at the tip, but it got thicker fast.

Okay god don't think about it. Mutt and her guns. Yeah. -- _God_ , the thing hadn't _looked_ that big, but the stretch _hurt_ \--don't think about it! Reinforcement, yeah, or possibly something to absorb the shock from the recoil--

He was shaking with the strain of that steady pressure, which was naturally when Kane decided to pull the thing out--Mike sagged, gasping--and push it in again, just as slowly.

Mutt, and the, the shaking issue, he needed to focus on--it _hurt_ , it burned and stretched and felt like it was splitting him open. He heaved in a breath and bit his lip, trying to ignore the pain, except that even though it hurt, the slick press and slide still felt like sex and oh _god_ he was going to get hard again. Not yet, but he could feel it, he was already getting turned on--despite the fact that this was Kane, despite the pain, despite every shred of will Mike had. His body was so _stupid_ , why was it acting like this was okay?!

Kane pulled it out again, pushed it in, and this time he didn't stop. When the thickest part finally forced its way past the resistance and the thing narrowed again, sliding in fast, Kane chuckled. “Pulled that in like you were hungry for it,” he said, and Mike bared his teeth in response, too shaken and distracted to argue.

Then it started to buzz. He twitched, tensing for vibration on that point inside where he was already oversensitive, but the thing didn't quite touch it. It held him open, stretched wider around it than was comfortable, and buzzed against slick skin that still ached and burned from the hard push in. It hurt, and it felt good, and his body ached all over and kept responding anyway.

Closing his eyes, Mike bit his lip hard. He could deal with Red. Had been handling the beatings just fine, and the inadequate food and water, the constant near-dark of the cell--he'd taken it all in stride and been fine.

He was starting to think he wasn't fine anymore.

“What's wrong, Cadet? You're not _rising_ to the challenge.” Kane reached between Mike's legs and ran a finger over him where he was still soft. Mike jerked back from the touch only to feel the thing in him press deeper as Kane held it in place.

“Stop touching me,” Mike said, voice hoarse. Pointless as the words were, they were the only kind of resistance he had left, and it seemed important to keep resisting.

“Hah! All the trouble I'm going to and not a speck of gratitude! Not even enough to stop lying to me.” Kane leaned in close to his ear and Mike went on alert, judging the new distance in his peripheral vision. “You don't want me to stop touching you. You want more. You want me to stop playing around and fuck you already. Don't you.”

Mike slammed his head to the side and Kane didn't pull back quite fast enough. White and red starbursts exploded behind Mike's eyes as the side of his skull crashed into Kane’s cheekbone, and he sagged dizzily in his shackles as Kane staggered back with a roar. Probably that had been a bad idea, Mike thought, biting back a grin, and probably he was going to pay for it, but _god_ it had felt good!

Emotionally, it had felt good. Physically, his head was still spinning and it really hurt. He really didn't care because _yes, hah!_

Kane straightened up, breathing harshly. “You're going to regret that, Chilton,” he growled, face twisted with rage. He stepped closer, staying well out of headbutting range, and reached down to drag Mike's briefs up his thighs and halfway on, leaving the waistband caught on something--oh. Leaving the waistband to hold the new toy in place inside him. Without Kane holding it, Mike might have been able to push it out again, he realized, but not now.

“Since you don't appreciate my restraint, I think I'll stop exercising it for a while. Just long enough to show you how grateful you should be.” Kane stepped in front of him, eyes narrow, hands flexing. “But there are so many possibilities once we discard mercy. It's hard to choose. What do you think, Chilton? Should I call Red in, let him have you for a while?”

Mike blinked, squeezed his eyes closed and open again, trying to clear up the blurs at the edges of his vision and the way the room was wheeling slowly around him. It was probably dumb to feel relieved at the thought of being Red’s punching bag again, but it was so much better than this. “Feel free,” he said easily. “Might wanna put that stuff away, though, and get my clothes back on, because I'm pretty sure all this would put him off his stride, and his form is bad enough as it is.”

Kane laughed short and sharp, anger partly overcome by sly amusement, which couldn't be a good sign. “Oh,” he said in a silky tone, eyes widening in false surprise, “dear boy, it seems you've misunderstood me. I was trying to use your more _delicate_ terminology, but it only gets in the way of real communication. What I meant to say was, call Red in and let him _fuck_ you.”

Mike went still, his whole body twinging with alarm. It hadn't occurred to him that this could still get _worse_. It wasn't that he wanted Red to do that any _less_ than he wanted Kane to, it was just that he'd never considered Red might, and now that both possibilities were laid out there was surprisingly little difference in how much he disliked them.

“No?” Kane said before he could pull words together. “You'd prefer not? I wonder if I should even give you a choice.” He eyed Mike.

Mike held his gaze steadily because that, he could do. Mike was _good_ at not backing down. (He was almost successfully ignoring the thing still buzzing inside him, which didn't hurt at all anymore and was starting to feel unsettlingly good. As long as he ignored it, it wouldn't matter.)

Kane smiled slowly. “I think I will give you a choice, Chilton.” He stooped to the case on the floor and rose holding--a long skinny nail? A really thin metal stylus? Whatever it was, he held it up between them. “You may choose between Red and this. Either way, you'll have your punishment for this insubordinate behavior. You decide which is preferable.”

“It's not insubordination,” Mike said, stomach clenching. “You're not my commanding officer, I don't follow your orders.”

“Recalcitrant and undisciplined as you are, _Cadet_ , I will remain your commanding officer until you die. You can't change that, however much you rebel, however far you run.” Kane’s voice dropped to a low growl. “Backstabbing traitor that you are, you're still _mine_.”

Mike's lips pulled back from his teeth as he ignored how his breath caught at the words. “That's all I was, that's all anyone is to you, isn't it? A thing you _own_ , a tool! Must be a nasty surprise when they start acting on their own!”

Kane snarled, fists clenching. “You have no _idea_ what you're--” Cutting himself off, he glared, visibly regaining control. He pointed the metal thing at Mike and said, “Choose.”

Breathing hard, Mike met his eyes a minute more, hating him. (Hating himself. _You're still mine_ , he said, and part of Mike thrilled at it, pathetically happy to be remembered, claimed, wanted. He wished he could crush that reaction completely, make the sick confusion over it go away.)

Finally he looked away to stare at the skinny metal thing Kane held. Utterly smooth and shiny as some surgical instrument, it was too blunt to be any kind of needle or knife, or anything he could recognize, so he couldn't figure out what the threat was. Annoyed, he cocked his head at Kane. “Were you planning to make me guess what that is, too? Or am I not supposed to know?”

Kane smiled, broad and coldly smug. “Hmm, what should I tell you. This little rod represents pain and a certain amount of mental distress, thanks to where I'll put it. Red will cause less pain, and you'll no doubt find it easier to handle, but he'll take longer, given his little obsession with you. Neither option will cause permanent damage.”

Thanks to where he would put it? Mike stared at the rod, trying to think of places it could go that would hurt but wouldn't cause permanent damage. He kept thinking of Kane stabbing him with it somehow, even though it wasn't sharp, but that would definitely count as damage. In the ear wouldn't hurt and that didn't make sense anyway. It was way too thin to even notice if Kane stuck it where he'd put the other toys--forget it, Mike wasn't going to figure this out. He needed to think about the choice from a different angle.

Red would be humiliating, a lot worse than getting knocked around. It wasn't like he'd be gentle, either. It was possible that this whole choosing thing was purely for Kane’s amusement and whatever Mike picked Kane would give him the opposite, but if there was a chance of avoiding Red in this mess, Mike would take it. He could handle pain, even a lot of pain. He was already in pain, his arms were half-numb and half full of knives and he was fine.

“I pick that thing.”

Kane’s teeth flashed through his beard as he chuckled. “I suspected as much,” he said, sounding pleased. “You were never one to back down from a challenge, Cadet. We'll see if this one is too much for you to handle.”

Okay, he sounded a little too happy about Mike's choice for it to have been the right one, but it was probably stupid to assume Kane would've offered a choice he _wasn't_ happy about. If it was a trick, it would've been a trick either way, Mike told himself.

Smiling, Kane smeared a drop of slick over the rod and stepped up to Mike. His free hand slid under the band of Mike's briefs as Mike tried automatically to pull away. He was only half-hard, but when Kane grabbed him and began to stroke, that changed quickly.

“So eager, Cadet?” Kane said. “So desperate to prove yourself?”

Mike snarled at him. “You didn't say anything about this. Why don't you get your hand off me and get on with it?”

“Oh, did you not realize?” Kane said. “You'll have to be fully erect for this to work best.”

Mike frowned and glanced at the rod again. It needed to be slick, which again ruled out the stabbing with a blunt needle idea, and Mike needed to be hard, but where would something that thin even _fit_ \--

His eyes widened. “No,” he said, disbelieving, looking back at Kane.

Kane’s smile stretched into something broad and unnerving. “Well done, you figured it out. And just in time.” He pushed the band of Mike's briefs down around his hard-on, trapping it against his belly, and held the rod poised above it, right over the slit at the tip.

“I thought you said no permanent damage!”

“Oh come now, this isn't that big,” Kane said with a note of contempt. “It won't do any damage--unless you try to pull away while I'm putting it in. I suggest you hold still.” He lowered the rod and pushed the tip of it in.

Mike went rigid, teeth clamped so tight he heard a faint high ringing in his ears. Kane had said it would hurt, but hadn't said how _wrong_ it would feel, how invasive and dangerous, what delicate territory it would be shoving into. Now Mike knew what he'd meant about the mental distress.

Another fraction slid in. Mike was so tense his muscles were quivering. It took concentration not to shift, not to instinctively jerk his hips to get away from the burning pain. The buzzing from behind him, inside him, didn't help with holding still.

No wonder Kane had been pleased with Mike's choice. He should have known better, shouldn't have let Kane trick him into agreeing to this--

Although if he'd known, would he have chosen Red instead? Mike gasped for breath as Kane pushed it in another half-inch, making it go as slow as possible, stretching out the torment.

No, he decided after a minute. Even this agony was better than the thought of Red seeing him like this, touching him, doing more. This was bad, but--he gritted his teeth, threw his head back as more pushed in--that would be worse. He could take this. He could handle it. Pain wasn't fun, but he knew how to deal with it without losing himself.

Kane pushed again and the rod slid in deep. Mike drew a ragged breath, suddenly riveted by the fear that it would push in all the way and get stuck--no, that would count as permanent damage. He swallowed and kept breathing carefully in and out. The thought went through his mind that he was depending on Kane’s word that this thing wouldn't hurt him, and the man had no particular attachment to honesty. It was pointless to worry about, so he ignored it. Either way, there was nothing he could do about the situation but endure, and believing the pain was only temporary would help him do that.

Head tilted thoughtfully, Kane let go and stepped back. Mike couldn't keep himself from looking down. A little metal ring glinted at the tip, jutting out of him. Seeing it was worse, made it more real. He swallowed again and raised his head, turning his eyes away.

Kane was watching his face. “Does it hurt, Cadet? You look like it hurts.”

Jaw flexing, Mike met his gaze with narrow eyes and said nothing.

“You bear it well, though. No noise despite the pain.”

The compliment was harder to deal with. Mike wanted to close his eyes, look away--he held Kane’s gaze, lips tight.

Kane put out a finger and tapped the little ring lightly, jolting the length of metal inside him. Mike bit off a pained grunt. “I thought this might be instructive about the dangers of misbehavior,” Kane mused, “but now that I think about it, you prefer it this way, don't you?”

Mike's mouth dropped open in outrage and he couldn't stop himself from saying, “ _Prefer--_?”

“Oh, yes.” Kane’s gaze slid over his body, taking in every bruise and drop of sweat, every quivering muscle, before rising to his face again. “It must be such a relief to have _pain_ to pit yourself against, rather than struggling to hold out against pleasure. Isn't it.”

Mike's mouth snapped shut. He breathed in, air harsh in his throat. He hated this, hated that Kane _knew_ , that he saw through Mike so easily, hated that there was no response he could safely make.

“This way,” Kane said, tapping the ring again so Mike jerked, “you can tell yourself it's all against your will. Even though you're the one who chose this option. It's easier to believe that you're a tormented _innocent_ when you're not busy moaning and coming all over yourself, isn't it. Easier to lie to yourself about it.”

Mike’s mind skittered uncomfortably away from _moaning and coming all over_ because no, that probably didn't mean what Kane said it did about him, but--but. Not safe to think about, either way. He struggled to keep his voice from shaking with anger. “There's also the fact that I'm, y’know, chained to a wall. I don't actually have a choice about any of this, no matter how much you twist things.”

“You're desperate to believe that. But you know, refusal to take responsibility for your own desires and actions is its own kind of cowardice, Cadet. I wish I could say it surprised me to see that in you. Of course you have a choice.”

“What, between Red and this thing? That's not--”

“No, a choice about being here, in this situation, chained in this cell. All you have to do is apologize to me for your actions over the past year, and ask sincerely to come back. The Kane Co family would be glad to welcome you again, once you gave proof of repenting your crimes. But you're not going to do what's necessary, are you. Not yet.” Kane pushed the band of his briefs down farther and stroked him with a fingertip, then took him between thumb and forefinger and gently squeezed.

A groan ripped out of Mike's throat as delicate flesh pressed against the unyielding line of metal inside, burning and aching.

“You'd much rather be a martyr,” Kane said scornfully, “tell yourself how _evil_ I am to give you exactly what you want. That's so much easier than admitting you were wrong.” He took hold of the ring and began pulling the rod out. Mike gasped for breath, desperately relieved even though it hurt, and then Kane pushed it back into him again.

“ _Hnnhh!_ ” The cry forced itself past his clenched teeth. “I wasn't-- _ahhh!_ ” Kane was pulling it a little way out and shoving it back in over and over in a sick parody of sex. The throbbing pain dragged at Mike's mind, made it hard to think, harder to talk. He mustered all his will, closed his eyes and did it anyway. “ _Nnh_ \--I wasn't wrong. _Hh_ \--and I don't w-- _ahh_ \--want this.”

“The denial is getting predictable. Aren't you tired of it yet?”

Chest heaving, Mike shook his head, less an answer than a refusal of the concept; he wasn't in denial. His muscles jumped and trembled with the strain of enduring this. The thread of pleasure from the toy buzzing behind him made a strange background for the intensity of the hurt in front, and he wasn't sure how much longer he could take it.

As long as he had to. He would handle it as long as-- _god_ it _hurt_ though.

Finally Kane pushed the rod in one last time and left it there. “I will admit,” he said, “the strength of will is… impressive.”

Mike's breathing shuddered on the way in. He kept his eyes shut.

“You may be a coward in some ways, Cadet, but your physical courage is nearly unmatched. Strength, speed, endurance, fearlessness--you were always the one to watch, extraordinary Mike Chilton.”

Mike gritted his teeth. The faint note of bitterness in Kane’s voice didn't dampen the effect the compliments had on that stupid, lagging part of him, which perked up hopefully at this sign of approval.

“Of course, you still can't open your eyes and face me,” Kane said, contemptuous.

Mike opened his eyes and curled a lip in a tired snarl.

“Better.”

Ugh, why wouldn't he _stop talking_ , the pain was better than the things he said.

Kane stooped to the case again and Mike barely cared. Everything had already been done to him at this point, there was nowhere to stuff a toy that wasn't already full. Then a new buzz started as Kane straightened up and Mike twitched despite himself. That noise was starting to mean something to his body, although it seemed to be a weird mix of _yes please_ and _oh god run_. It wasn't a pleasant feeling.

He caught a glimpse of a little white oval in Kane’s hand and then it was on his chest, a low thrum as it rubbed across one nipple. His body jerked, half-convinced that the sensation must be more pain, unable to interpret it correctly for a moment. Mike sucked in a breath through his nose, so done with this whole mess.

Then Kane put a thumb on his other nipple before running the vibrator over it, and that _definitely_ didn't hurt now. Mike caught a soft moan before it got out, but couldn't stop the way he shivered, neck arching back slightly. It felt _so good_ after the pain, against the pain that was still there, half-numb in his arms and burning between his legs, it made the pleasure of the thing buzzing in him at his back all the more noticeable.

“Yes, that's better, isn't it,” Kane said. “I wouldn't have to punish you at all if you were willing to be reasonable, but even with your handicaps, I think you can be retrained. If we can just get rid of that nasty treacherous streak, you could still be exemplary in service to Deluxe.”

“Service to you, you mean,” Mike gasped. “Never again. Forget it.”

“Not yet,” Kane said. He turned the vibrator up and held it on one nipple, rolling it from one side to the other, below and then above, then switched to the second one. It was becoming too much sensation, Mike's skin going numb to it. Kane raised his other hand, brushed his fingertips where the vibrator had just been, and _oh_ , no, it wasn't numb after all. Mike's hips jerked before he could catch them.

Kane chuckled and kept doing it, using the vibrator until it was a torment, then stroking over the abused flesh with an alarmingly gentle touch. It felt so good Mike couldn't control his breathing, harsh panting that shook and hitched with every touch. It was all he could do not to moan.

“I understand it's uncomfortable to come with one of these in,” Kane said, running his free hand down to wrap around Mike, nudge a thumb against the protruding ring at his tip. Mike gasped and his hips twitched away uselessly. “I wonder if your martyrdom goes as far as choosing that pain instead of a pleasurable climax.”

Mike kept his mouth shut, but he was pretty sure it was a moot point. That thing hurt enough he probably couldn't come with it in.

“Let's test it,” Kane said, smiling. The hand with the vibrator moved away from the reddened, oversensitive nipple it'd been on and Mike sucked in a breath, tense in expectation of something unpleasant. He heard a click and the buzz dropped from its higher pitch to the low one again. Then the vibrator was on his hard-on, not near the aching tip but lower, quietly thrumming and not hurting at _all_.

Mike didn't know when his eyes closed, didn't know how long it lasted, the teasing sensation sliding up and down the length of him while Kane rubbed idle fingertips over his nipples. Vibration against him in front and in him behind, and he hadn't thought it was possible, but the pleasure mounted and grew, never erasing the pain but growing stronger and more persuasive than it. His muscles were taut, had always been taut, he was shaking.

The little vibrator in front stopped. Mike heaved in air and reluctantly opened his eyes.

“Well?” Kane said. “Do you prefer to come with or without pain?”

Mike was drawing breath to speak when Kane grabbed the rod’s tip and pulled. Even caught off-guard, Mike managed not to make noise. Then Kane shoved it back in again and Mike had to choke off a cry, eyes burning with the renewed pain. He closed his eyes, tried to push back the sting of moisture in them, almost succeeded before Kane did it again and Mike groaned aloud. Kane would love to see his eyes watering, he couldn't give him the satisfaction, but it hurt _so much_.

“Stop it,” he said hoarsely.

“You haven't given me an answer yet,” Kane said, pausing.

No, forget it, Mike wasn't playing this sick game where he chose what Kane would do to him; maybe it made it feel like he had some control over what was happening, but it was a lie and it made it all worse. He didn't want that thing in him and he didn't want to come, either. “I prefer,” he said through his teeth, “for you to leave me alone.”

“Hmm. Interesting choice.” Kane let go. Mike heard him step away and opened his eyes in suspicion, forgetting they were wet. “I would have thought--but what's this, Cadet?” He leaned closer, all mock startlement. “Tears? I thought you'd have better self-control than to fall apart over a little thing like this. Pull yourself together,” he said, and his fingers brushed sore, aching skin as he grabbed the rod again, tugging.

Mike's eyes winced closed as he flinched. Two warm drops slid down his cheeks and his stomach twisted, humiliation mixing with bitter anger.

“Look at you,” Kane said softly, voice rich with satisfaction and scorn as he pulled the rod out and thrust it in. “So much for your vaunted endurance. A little bit of pain and you're crying like a child.”

Mike shuddered, lips twisting in a snarl, and kept his eyes shut. A hundred comments sprang to mind--he obviously didn't know any kids if he thought this was how they cried, this wasn't exactly a _little_ pain, Mike's endurance was just fine, thanks--and he locked them all behind his teeth. It didn't matter, didn't matter, he had nothing to prove to Kane. It didn't matter what Kane thought of him. (Kane already knew what Mike was worth, he'd made him a commander for a reason back then and they both knew it.)

Unexpectedly, Kane let go of the rod. “Leave you alone, hmm? Well, since this is about showing you what you could have if you make the right choice, I'll give you what you say you want. How long should I leave you like this? Fifteen minutes? An hour?”

Mike’s eyes snapped open. “Not like this!” he said before he could stop himself.

“Oh? Would you like something different?”

Mike glared and tried to keep quiet. Anything he said, Kane would use against him somehow. There was no point being direct, it wasn't like Kane was going to be reasonable-- “I _want_ you to take all this stuff away and let me _be!_ ”

“Really. In this state?” Kane said, brushing a finger over him. “But it would be cruel to deprive you of your climax. Let me see.” He hummed in consideration, finger sliding up and down Mike's length, making his breath catch and his jaw clench. “Ah, I know. Would you like this out?” He touched the tip of the rod gently enough it didn't twitch.

Mike tensed anyway, waiting for the trick. “You know the answer. What's the catch.”

Kane smiled. “So suspicious. Answer the question.”

“No.”

Kane’s brows lifted, smile sliding into a dubious look. “No, you want it to stay?”

“No, I'm _done_ playing your games and answering your questions!”

“Then I should just leave this where it is,” Kane said, brows pulling low.

“You'll do what you want no matter what I say!” Mike snapped, and reined in his temper with the last of his self-control at the flash of triumph in Kane’s eyes. “If you do what I say, it's because it's something you wanted in the first place. It's a sick game and I'm not playing anymore.”

“And what if I persuade you?” Kane grabbed the ring at the tip of the rod and tugged gently so it slid out a little.

Mike hissed at the burning ache and narrowed his eyes. “I'm not that easy to break.”

Kane smiled slowly. “No,” he said thoughtfully. “You're not, are you? Not with pain, in any case. Well, we'll put this away,” he said, pulling the rod out entirely as Mike hissed. “We can always bring it out again later.”

Mike knew there had to be a catch, knew something else nasty was probably coming, but having the stupid thing out of him felt so good it was hard to care. It couldn't have been that heavy, but he felt weirdly lighter down there, and though the pain wasn't gone it was fading to a dull ache, a shadow of the wrenching burn it had been.

“Let's see what you think of this,” Kane said, taking hold of his hard-on again as Mike twitched, and wrapped something around it that secured the oval vibrator in place just below the head. When Kane let go, the toy didn't shift. Then a second oval went on Mike's chest, fixed against one nipple with some kind of tape, and another on the other side.

Granted, these things weren't painful like that rod, but Mike was still not feeling enthusiastic about whatever was meant to happen next. “I think you should get your hearing checked. I said to get the toys _off_ me, not get out more.”

“Mm, yes,” Kane said absently, “but for your own good I have to take into account what you _need_ as well as what you ask for, since you're not going to be honest about it. As we already discussed.”

“This isn't _about_ what I n-- _nnh!_ ” The three vibrators turned on and Mike involuntarily jerked in reaction against his shackles, sending a half-numb, sick jolt of pain through his shoulders and the part of his arms he could still feel. It was enough to overwhelm the pleasure completely, and Mike froze with it, breathing carefully, reminding himself that nothing was broken in his wrists or arms, just strained, so whatever was wrong would fix itself fast as soon as it had a chance.

“Ah,” Kane said, watching him, “that reminds me.” He picked up the little case of toys, closed away and innocuous-looking, and stepped over to the control panel on the wall.

Mike's shackles lowered from above his head to shoulder height. His arms still stretched out to either side, but with enough slack that his elbows bent a little. Mike's mouth fell open and he stared at Kane, bewildered and suspicious--until the pain in his arms began sliding into agony as blood flowed back into the blood-starved tissues. Then it made more sense.

“Well?” Kane said. “Aren't you going to thank me?”

“You haven't let me go,” Mike said, voice strained as he tried not to groan. “Or stopped being a jerk. So, no.”

“The ingratitude is a pity. Back when you were worth my time, you used to be well disciplined and _civil_ ,” Kane said, and left.

All four vibrators kept thrumming alongside the growing, throbbing anguish in Mike's arms and hands, pain overpowering the subtle current of pleasure--so far. Mike gritted his teeth and endured.

*

Reaching his office, Abraham pulled up the live feed from Chilton’s cell and sat down to get some work done. There was no sound, of course, but memory filled the gap with the gasps and choked-off noises and rare, delicious groan that went along with the open, panting mouth and eyes dark with pain. It was just as well there was no audio; it was hard enough to look away as it was.

He managed to concentrate reasonably well anyway, glancing up every ten minutes or so to see how Chilton was getting along. Judging by his face, it took some time for the pain to die down enough that the other sensations came into play, the bullet vibes and the plug Abraham had left in him, but eventually they started having an effect. The frozen tension in his frame gradually gave way to something more like restlessness. His eyes lost the distance of pain and took on a much more present frustration and discomfort.

Abraham smiled and checked on the latest progress report for the Genesis Pod. When he looked back up a while later, Chilton had advanced to subtle squirming, hips twisting, teeth set in his lip. His hands twitched in his shackles, but his arms were still--he was clearly being careful not to pull at them. Pants around his ankles, briefs still on but pulled down his erection, t-shirt caught around his shoulders behind his neck, he made a delightfully taken-apart picture to start with, especially with the dark bruising splotched across his torso and face. Add the sleek white vibes on his nipples and cock and--well. It certainly wasn't recruitment poster material.

Unless you were trying to recruit Red. That would probably do nicely. Reminded, Abraham checked that no one besides himself could access this particular feed. No need to share this with any overly dutiful guard, after all. He also made sure a complete recording would be saved to his personal drive.

Then he closed his work screen, expanded the screen with the video feed, and sat back to watch. It didn't take long before Chilton was outright writhing, skin sheened with sweat, legs beginning to shake. When he leaned back against the wall as though his knees were about to buckle, chest heaving with every breath, hips grinding pointlessly, Abraham knew the finish must be getting close. The look on his face was the perfect cap to it all; helpless anger with desperation wound through.

It would be nice to walk into the cell the second before he came, see his face when he realized what Abraham was about to see and that Chilton still couldn't stop it, when he understood once more who was fully in control of the situation (because he did seem to have trouble remembering). Since that timing wasn't possible, Abraham contented himself with zooming in the feed as close as it could go with reasonable resolution.

Chilton’s bangs were sticking together with sweat, and beneath his brows were drawn tight. His mouth fell open again as his eyes rounded, and Abraham’s eyes narrowed in satisfaction as Chilton’s head tipped back and his body jerked helplessly in climax. His expression was an intoxicating mixture of anguish, resistance and relief.

Abraham hummed thoughtfully, adjusting himself in his pants. Chilton wouldn't be nearly as tight as he was a year ago, especially after having that plug stretching him open all this while, but fucking him might be even more enjoyable now. Abraham wouldn't have to be careful with him this time. That would be... gratifying.

Chilton went slack against the wall, eyes closed, face drawn, then shivered. The vibrators were still going, of course, and as soon as the post-orgasm rush faded that was going to get interesting. Abraham looked aside to check that his toy case was finished with its cleaning cycle, then glanced back. He waited patiently as Chilton leaned there and twitched occasionally, finally shuddering all over and frowning as if only just noticing the problem.

Abraham smiled as Chilton set his teeth in his lip, face going grim as his body jerked and quivered, all his muscles tensing as the vibrations continued mercilessly against oversensitive skin. His cock was half soft, and Abraham was curious to see if the overstimulation would soften it further or harden it.

Despite Chilton’s grimace, the latter reaction eventually won out, but not entirely pleasantly. Even though his erection stiffened, the erratic way his body twitched and shifted suggested that the line between pleasure and pain was getting thinner. 

Perfect.

Picking up the toy case, Abraham closed the feed and walked briskly out. By the time he got down to the cell, he was unsurprised to find Red lingering outside the door, predictably pissy at having been locked out. (However pleasing Chilton’s face would have been if Red walked in and found him like that, what followed would have been a very different scene from the one Abraham had carefully set up. If Chilton was still being stubborn, Red would get his turn soon enough anyway.) Abraham dealt with his pet loose cannon and waited until he'd stalked away, bristling with disgruntled fury, before stepping into the cell.

Chilton’s head snapped up immediately and his eyes narrowed on Abraham, who smiled genially as he walked forward. “Enjoying yourself?”

Chilton’s lip curled and he didn't answer. Abraham wondered if he knew how much that snarling expression made him look like some mangy, cornered beast, too stupid to know when to cower instead of attack.

He didn't look like he was enjoying himself. His hips jittered as though they couldn't decide whether to push into the stimulation or pull away and his face was equal parts exhaustion and frustration, though he was steady on his feet now, no longer leaning back on the wall. His breathing shook, but it was those little subvocal noises as he panted, _ah, ah, hahh,_ that were best.

Stopping in front of him, Abraham opened the toy case and set it down, then without ceremony began peeling the tape off Chilton to remove the vibrators. Chilton actually let out a groan of relief, only partly bitten short, when the one on his erection came off. Abraham dropped all three back into their cleaning pockets in the case, then stopped to study Chilton.

He was breathing deeply, watching Abraham from under his brows. His arms hung limp in their shackles, but given that he was stubborn to the point of idiocy, that wouldn't last long when Abraham stepped into reach of an elbow.

Abraham reached up to touch his own cheekbone where Chilton had bruised it earlier, eyeing him coolly. “Fight me again,” he said, stroking a fingertip up Chilton’s erection as he twitched and bared his teeth, “and I'll pull out a thicker gauge to sound you with.” He brushed his finger over the slit of Chilton’s cock and watched his eyes widen as he got past the unfamiliar terminology and understood. “And then I'll leave it in for the remainder of your stay.”

Chilton’s muscles tensed and his breath hissed out through his teeth as he struggled internally, common sense warring with his rebellious nature. Abraham stepped in close enough for Chilton to visibly consider headbutting him again and watched as he fought down the urge, then tugged those ridiculous orange briefs down his thighs and put an arm around him to pull out the plug. Chilton gritted his teeth and held his gaze at close range and Abraham smiled.

“Well done,” he said quietly, and enjoyed the flinch and renewed glare. He turned the vibration off, put the plug away in the case and set it to a cleaning cycle before he turned back to Chilton. “It looked like you had a good time in my absence, hmm?”

“Not what I'd call it,” Chilton said.

“You couldn't see the look on your face,” Abraham pointed out.

Chilton started to roll his eyes, then froze. “The look on--you were _watching?_ ”

“Of course. You said to leave you alone, not to stop watching you. You put on quite the show.”

Considering Chilton’s swarthy complexion, it was surprising how red he could flush when humiliated. Tight-lipped, he didn't answer beyond a searing look.

“And I think it's time for another one. I'm going to fuck you now.” Abraham watched all the muscle in that lean body go taut with the yearning to attack, watched rage and hatred flare in those dark eyes. “I don't actually need you to cooperate, but you should if you don't want to be sounded again.”

“Yeah, that's not happening,” Chilton said tightly. “I don't care what you threaten me with, I'm not going along with that.”

Abraham considered him. “I think the question is, how much self-control do you really have, when it's pitted against your fear?” Chilton twitched, eyes sharpening with outrage. “You see, it doesn't _matter_ what I threaten you with if you're frightened enough of the alternative that you forget the threat--”

“I'm not afraid of you,” Chilton snapped.

Abraham gave him a pitying smile. “Shall I tell you what you're afraid of, Cadet, one of the many things? You're afraid to _stop resisting_.” He let that statement sit a moment, watched the muted incomprehension on Chilton’s face. “It doesn't matter how stupid and pointless the resistance is, how little trouble it causes me or what punishments it earns you, it's worth it to you. As long as you resist me, you can tell yourself none of this is your fault.”

Chilton angrily opened his mouth and snapped it closed again. Perhaps he'd finally learned better than to argue. Disbelief and fury almost hid the shadow of uncertainty in his eyes.

“I can promise you punishment if you fight me and you'll fight anyway, because pain is easy, isn't it? Someone else might think avoiding pain was the easier path, but not you. You don't dare give in, because you know it wouldn't be about the pain. It would be because you _want_ to submit to me. You want me to take you back, to fuck you, to _own_ you. And you're desperate to pretend you don't.”

“That's not true,” Chilton said harshly, tugging at his shackles and barely flinching at the pain. “ _None_ of that is true.”

“You certainly want to believe it's not. And who knows,” Abraham added with a broad shrug, “maybe I'm wrong. Maybe you fight because you _like_ the pain, or because you want to be punished, hm? Maybe you think you deserve it for your dereliction of duty last year.”

“Wrong,” Chilton said through his teeth.

“Am I? Do you think you have the control to behave yourself instead of struggling uselessly?”

“Oh, I _have_ it,” Chilton said with a sudden sharp grin that was half snarl. “Whether I'll use it the way you want me to is a different question.”

“Proving my point,” Abraham said, twisting his mouth dubiously. “I know what you're telling yourself. You're thinking you fight me, even when it gets you nothing, for the principle of the thing.” The flinch around the eyes said he'd hit home on that one. “Sounds a little hollow, doesn't it? Because it's an excuse you're hiding behind. If you weren't afraid that you really wanted it, you'd have the objectivity to look at what resistance gets you versus what cooperation does, and the decision to go along with this wouldn't terrify you.”

Chilton wasn't looking at him anymore, his eyes focused inward, hands flexing and twisting in the shackles. He shook his head erratically, as though trying to push Abraham’s words away, and didn't answer.

“Look at you,” Abraham said. “Controlled by your fear. Pathetic.”

Stung, Chilton glared at him. “You don't--I'm not a coward!”

“Then prove it!” Abraham rumbled, letting impatience color his voice. “Be sensible. Unless you were _enjoying_ the pain, of course.”

Chilton’s eyes flicked away from him. He was breathing hard. Abraham let him struggle with it a while before pressing the point.

“Well, Cadet? Do you have the discipline, the intelligence, to save yourself unnecessary suffering?”

Chilton finally met his gaze with a set jaw. “Fine. As long as you're not a jerk, I won't,” he had to pause to breathe a moment, “I won't fight you.”

Abraham nodded slowly, keeping the surge of vicious triumph out of his expression. “We'll see how long your resolve lasts.” He stepped up and raised a hand to Chilton’s face, rubbed a thumb across his lower lip, avoiding the split at one end. Chilton held his eyes grimly. Abraham pressed between his lips to find his teeth sealed and raised an eyebrow.

“You don't call this resisting?”

Chilton refused to answer for a minute, then said, “I'm not _biting_ , s-- _mmph!_ ” as Abraham took the opportunity to push his thumb into Chilton’s mouth. Chilton reacted with the expected glare, but kept the presence of mind not to try to retaliate.

Abraham stroked Chilton’s tongue, watching him thoughtfully, then pulled away and rubbed the wetness off on a nipple, making Chilton catch his breath. “Very good,” Abraham said, allowing a shade of surprise in his tone. “Perhaps you do have a shred of discipline left after all.”

Unsurprisingly, Chilton made no response.

Time to really test him. Abraham crouched down and put his hands on Chilton’s ankle, tugged him off-balance to pick it up and had his boot off before Chilton had figured out what he was doing. Feeling the sudden tension in his muscles, the imminence of movement, Abraham looked up and said, “Ready to break that resolve already? It didn't last very long.”

Chilton exhaled through his nose, lips tight, and the readiness left him, though the tension stayed. Abraham stripped off his other boot, briefs and pants without difficulty, dropping them in a pile off to the side with his discarded belt.

Then he unfastened his own belt and pants and slicked his erection, smiling at Chilton, whose eyes flickered away from his for the first time. Abraham’s smile broadened. He took Chilton by the backs of his thighs and lifted and he gasped as his feet left the ground. Abraham pressed his shoulders back against the wall to balance his weight, hooked one knee over Abraham’s shoulder and the other over an elbow, and sank into him.

He was definitely not as tight as he had been a year ago, and it was an easy slide in. Thoroughly pleasurable, too, especially watching Chilton’s face. Eyes squeezed shut, lips twitching to pull into a snarl, teeth gritted as he gasped for breath and struggled not to moan... delightful.

It was even better when Abraham started fucking him. He was quiet except for harsh breathing for a minute or two, and then Abraham changed the angle of his thrust and Chilton couldn't bite back a cry. He kept trying to stay quiet after that, and Abraham kept forcing noises out of him, choked off groans and gasps and shaky, distressed sounds.

“As much of a coward as you can be,” Abraham said between thrusts, “I knew you could do this. You have the courage.”

Chilton made a noise halfway between a groan and a growl. He hated the praise because it got to him, Abraham knew. It always had, he used to light up at a single word, his face falling just as fast if Abraham was less than satisfied with his performance. He was almost as easy now, only hiding his reactions slightly better.

“The question now is how long it takes you to admit that you want this.”

Chilton’s eyes opened long enough for a fierce glare as he shook his head. “ _Ahh_ \--I _don't_.”

“Of course,” Abraham said dubiously, moving one hand from Chilton’s rear to his chest to tug at a nipple. Chilton jerked, gasping. “And now you're going to tell me this doesn't feel good.”

Chilton didn't answer, teeth bared as he twitched, trying uselessly to pull away as Abraham touched him just a little roughly, exactly the way Chilton liked it.

“Yes, it's obvious you're really suffering,” Abraham drawled.

Chilton’s eyes snapped open and his lips pulled into that snarl again. “Screw you.”

Abraham’s eyes narrowed. “I'll only tolerate so much insolence, Cadet. If you can't argue with a statement, learn to react with grace, not childish insults.” He tilted Chilton’s hips the right way and thrust hard a few times in a row, watched his eyes widen and then flutter as he choked back moans. “You should also notice what your body is saying so you don't directly contradict it. That makes a lie even more obvious.”

“I'm not-- _hahh_ \--lying!”

He was so pathetically easy, even as stubborn as he was. Abraham sighed, raising his eyebrows. “Really, Chilton? You think your body would be doing _this_ ,” he ran a finger over Chilton’s erection, winning a sound very close to a whimper, “if you weren't enjoying yourself? If some part of you wasn't eager for this, wouldn't you be limp right now?”

The next breath Chilton dragged in shook, and he didn't answer beyond shaking his head in denial, eyes closed. He was starting to believe it. Abraham smiled to himself and began to provide more evidence.

Keeping a steady rhythm with his hips, he played with Chilton’s nipples, idly stroked his cock and watched him shudder, watched his hips twitch as he tried not to buck into it. When Abraham shoved two fingers into Chilton’s mouth, Chilton’s whole body jerked in shock. He didn't seal his lips around them and suck nicely, but the noises he made as Abraham fucked his mouth with them completely made up for the lack.

“Listen to you,” Abraham said. “Look how desperate you are. You can't expect me to believe you sound like this when you don't want it.”

Without opening his eyes, Chilton shook his head as much as he could with Abraham’s fingers in his mouth. It was annoying the way he kept trying to close everything out by shutting his eyes. It made Abraham want to strip every hiding place away from him, leave him nowhere to go but to apologize and surrender, begging for mercy.

“Open your eyes, _Cadet_ ,” Abraham growled. “I won't stand for this cowardice!”

Predictable as ever, Chilton made a muffled sound of protest and opened his eyes, dark and wet and angry and scared.

Abraham pulled his fingers out of Chilton’s mouth, using both hands to reward him by tilting Chilton’s hips to that angle again and rocking in deep and steady. By the way his face twisted and the shudder to his breathing, he didn't appreciate his reward--but he didn't try to close his eyes again.

“That's better,” Abraham said, sparing a hand for Chilton’s nipples again. Chilton bit off a moan.

“Don't,” he said, rasping. By the glassy look in his eyes, he had to be getting close.

“Why? Because you like it too much?” Abraham didn't pause, rubbing over one nipple before sliding over to pinch and tweak the other.

Chilton’s breath hitched and his hips bucked once, pushing into Abraham’s thrust. “Stop,” he said, low and rough and a hair's breadth from begging.

“Ask me nicely.”

Chilton fixed dark eyes on him, lips twisting and rippling as he fought himself. “Please,” he said finally, very quiet.

Abraham stopped, holding still inside him, eyes on Chilton’s. “Apologize to me.”

Chilton’s eyes widened. “What? No!”

Abraham bared his teeth. “You betrayed me. Apologize, beg my forgiveness and ask to come back. And I'll stop.”

“You betrayed me first!” Chilton snarled.

“ _Betrayed you?_ I gave you everything you could have wanted!” Abraham slammed into him, careless of the angle now. “Prestige, responsibility, recognition! I gave you my time, attention and trust and you repaid me by giving up and _running_ the first time it got tough!” His fingers were bruising-tight on Chilton’s rear, holding him still as Abraham drove in hard and deep. Abraham narrowed his eyes and controlled himself, lowering his voice to something that could be mistaken for calm. “I will give you one last chance to prove you're more than a waste of time and space. Apologize.”

Chilton’s hands were in fists in the shackles as he shook his head, lips pulled back from his teeth. “No! I'm not coming back. If I'd known the truth, I would never have become a cadet in the first place!”

Growling, Abraham pulled completely out of him and punched back inside. Chilton made a tight, pained noise and his eyes flinched closed before he forced them open again. Abraham did it several more times, watching Chilton tense and gasp with it, muscles shaking. “Your intransigence is a disappointment,” he said coldly. “I expected better, but I see now I misjudged you. You're not worthy of the investment I've made in you. Whatever virtues you once had have drained away in that cesspit you live in, leaving you _worthless_.”

He saw Chilton flinch before shaking his head. “You don't have--the right to judge me,” he panted. “You gave that up-- _ah_ \--when you ordered me to--kill innocent people.”

A flare of savage elation went through Abraham. “If you really believed that, you wouldn't bother to argue. I practically raised you, my standards are the ones you use instinctively, without thinking. No matter what you pretend, you imagine my judgment when you pit yourself against every obstacle you face. _All you want_ is to measure up to my image of what you could be.” He paused, tilted Chilton’s hips and moved in smoothly, rubbing across his prostate so he arched and shuddered. “Pity you've fallen so far short,” he added disdainfully. “No matter how you deny it on the surface, some part of you will always know you're unworthy now.”

Chilton’s eyes closed as he shook his head this time, face twisting, and Abraham put a hand on his ribs and ground down on the purple bruising over brown-gold skin. “There's that cowardice showing through again.”

Chilton gritted his teeth, but a tiny broken sound came out anyway. He kept his eyes shut. “Stop,” he said, barely above a whisper.

“Stop what? Hurting you?” His hand slid up to toy with a nipple again. “You don't deserve the consideration, but I might anyway. Telling you the truth? No. As long as you keep lying, Chilton, I'll keep reminding you of everything you try to deny.”

Chilton opened his mouth to protest, but Abraham was done listening. He pushed two fingers between Chilton’s lips again and used them to fuck his mouth while Abraham pounded into him harder, wringing tight, shaky noises out of him. It didn't take long to bring him to the edge again, and by that time Chilton’s face was wet, tears slipping from closed eyes down his cheeks as he writhed, trying and failing to stay quiet.

He came when Abraham pulled one spit-slick finger along his cock, going off like a propulsion jet as Abraham fucked him relentlessly through it. When he finally stopped jerking and twisting, he lay in Abraham’s grip like a dead thing, utterly still and unresponsive. Abraham fucked him for a while longer, enough to ensure he wouldn't forget this anytime soon, before finally letting go his control and coming.

When he was finished he dropped Chilton’s legs carelessly, ignoring the grunt of pain as he briefly hung by his wrists before getting his feet under him. Abraham cleaned himself up with a cloth from the side pocket of his toy case, then looked Chilton over with a sneer he couldn't see because his gaze was fixed to the floor.

“You're a mess.”

Chilton glanced up at him through wet, clumping lashes. The tears had stopped at some point, and he looked grim and worn. “Not hard to fix, but you're not going to let me down to fix it, are you.”

Abraham smiled. “No, I don't think I will.”

“I thought good hygiene was the sign of an ordered mind. If you're not promoting order, doesn't that make you an enemy of Deluxe?”

Abraham raised his eyebrows, somewhat surprised that Chilton still had enough spark in him for smartmouthed remarks. “I think we both know who's the enemy of Deluxe here. And hygiene is the least of your problems, Chilton. Red isn't pleased to have been kept away for so long, you know. And you're here until my patience runs out. You've used up a good deal of it already.”

“According to Jacob, you never had much to start with.”

Abraham’s spine straightened as though the name was an electric current, galvanizing his system. “Jacob!” he hissed. “What would Jacob know about _patience_ , he gave up on Deluxe and ran off years before you were born! The man’s a quitter and a coward, just like you! So fitting that the two of you found each other, scum attracting scum.”

Chilton gave him a narrow look. “Jacob’s not a coward. If you think so, either you didn't really know him or you don't know what the word means.”

“I knew him better than you do!” Abraham snapped. “He's never had the guts to do what needs to be done! That's why he _left_.”

“Huh. _He_ said it was because you were turning into a controlling, tyrannical megalomaniac.” Chilton tilted his head. “Guess it's obvious who's right, since you’re the one chaining people to walls.”

Abraham wasn't used to being off-balance, but Chilton wasn't behaving the way he'd expected and it was putting him off. The boy had been crying ten minutes ago, despairing and broken, and now here he stood making pointed remarks as though he wasn't still a tear-stained wreck. It was irritating. “You're a criminal and a threat to Deluxe,” he said dismissively, picking up the toy case and turning away. “A cell is the appropriate place for you.”

Chilton made it through half a sentence of his retort before Abraham turned back to cut him off as if only just remembering. “Oh, Red will be in shortly to keep you company. I'm sure you've missed him as much as he's missed you,” he said, and watched Chilton’s expression.

His eyes closed for a second, his lips tightened, but there was no shock, no horror or renewed despair at the news. His face was only hard and weary; thoroughly disappointing. Abraham left him there, sticky, naked and somehow unbroken, and went back to his office to watch Red’s arrival.

*

Mike had known when Kane was in him that it couldn't get any worse. Hearing him say--all that stuff, cruel lies just plausible enough that Mike couldn't deny them--while he took Mike at the same time (making him feel _good_ , how could someone so evil be so good at that) until Mike couldn't keep it together anymore and broke down in front of him… that was the worst thing possible.

It wasn't that he didn't care about Red coming in, finding him like this, _touching_ him. It was just that however humiliating and painful and bad it was, it couldn't possibly be worse than Kane. The knowledge made for pretty cold comfort while he was waiting for Red, but it was better than nothing.

And he was right. Yeah, when Red showed up it sucked. Having Red stare and mock him and take him--hard and brutal, which wasn't fun but at least didn't feel horribly _wrong_ like the pleasure had-- _really_ _sucked_. But it was nothing compared to Kane. Mike could ignore it, it didn't matter. He was okay.

When Red was finally finished, Kane called him up to give further orders and Mike realized he'd been watching the whole time, and that was. Pretty bad. Mike had a minute where he wasn't sure he was okay anymore. But he got it under control.

Kane rang off and Red snarled a lot before obeying him, letting Mike out of one shackle to let him get dressed. Unexpected, but nice, even if Mike still felt incredibly gross under his clothes. (It felt really good to be dressed again, even if the protection was all in his head. Really, really good.) Then, of course, Red went back to his regularly scheduled violence.

Mike could handle that. That was okay.

Later, Kane came back to taunt him about how Motorcity was falling, and that was not okay, but by then Mike had a plan. He'd noticed how the cables holding his shackles to the wall stretched and pulled out when Red hit him hard enough that he fell, and noticed that the guy either didn't know how to retract them again or didn't care. Planning how Mike could use that kept him from losing it, kept him okay.

Julie got in to see him somehow, which was terrifying, even if it was a huge relief to see her face (if Kane caught her she was dead and there was nothing Mike could do about it, he hated it, she shouldn't have taken the risk). She needed encouragement, so he did his best, standing by her and trying not to wonder if the cell still smelled like sex or if his sweat was enough to block it out by now. And then Tooley came, and Julie needed to keep her cover, her life was on the line if it got blown, Mike knew that, he did. And when she slapped Mike so hard he lost his balance, he sat there on the floor and watched the doors close behind her and Tooley and told himself it didn't feel like a betrayal.

One more hurt on top of all his other hurts wasn't a big deal. It didn't matter that this one was from--from one of his friends instead of Kane or Red, it wasn't, wasn't important. She’d _had_ to. It was fine. Mike was okay.

Red came back, and Mike finally got to fight him and won and escaped. Then it was an adrenaline-filled blur of fighting and losing and driving and fighting some more, until he and the Burners finally defeated Kane and his specially made mini-apocalypse and saved Motorcity.

Mike was free and home. He had his Burners back, and Mutt was going to be rebuilt, and (everything hurt but he couldn't think about that but it was okay, he was getting good at not thinking about it) everything was going to be okay now.

He was okay. He was (he was, he _was_ ) okay.

**Author's Note:**

> I know commenting is hard, but if you liked the fic, it'd be awesome if you just let me know one thing you liked about it!


End file.
